


intimate contexts

by taonsils (mirokkuma)



Series: card fills [10]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, Domestic, M/M, Menstruation, Orgasm Control, Slice of Life, Trans Male Character, chanyeol is a tattoo artist bc why not, ftm junmyeon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-12
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2019-06-09 09:10:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15264156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mirokkuma/pseuds/taonsils
Summary: “I’m not doing anything,” Chanyeol pouts, then leans in and down. He bumps the tip of his nose against Junmyeon’s bridge, but it’s not cute enough to stop Junmyeon staring him down. Fine, fine. “I mean, ok, I am. Doing something. But because you’re handsome. Like, crazy handsome.”“And you’re full of shit,” Junmyeon mutters, but Chanyeol leans in more insistently and he still loops his arms around his shoulders.





	intimate contexts

**Author's Note:**

> [kink bingo card fill ▲ prompt: orgasm control]  
> a more gentle suyeol than my usual because it’s just like that sometimes. (mostly because junmyeon was so happy to receive his food truck and I’m weak and was struck down with softness).   
> this is not at all what this fic was originally supposed to be, but writing a trans guy at the heart of a fic (and a trans character focused fic that isn’t about discovery/transition) is something I’ve been meaning to do since Overdose era tbh,,that it happened now is a little gift to myself for everything that's happened since then that prevented it getting written D; (for clarification if anything is confusing /unfamiliar, Junmyeon is entirely pre-transition (so no medical or surgical changes). there are mentions of dysphoria but nothing too heavy.  
> here are [some](https://78.media.tumblr.com/42fa9733380b55b4121121f86671e74b/tumblr_oryf4oPF6O1rybwjko1_500.png) [visuals](https://78.media.tumblr.com/0faa88e65608d3decf12ca7d0c61b284/tumblr_pacnxf3TGP1tml5fdo1_1280.jpg) for you ❀
> 
> woo even though this is my usual style of Nothing Happening, this was an au I really needed in my life right now. it was quite a journey to write and I went through a lot of Feelings and some great conversations due to it. thank you so much mc, shawn and aeryn for listening to me cry and having the draft repeatedly dropped on you;; and thank you twitter fam for the month of listening to me whine about word counts and holding my sweaty hands when I was low on confidence♡   
>  ALSO THIS IS THE THIRD TIME I’VE HAD A LOT OF WORDS ABOUT SUYEOL DOING NOTHING BUT LIVING TOGETHER I’LL STOP NOW OTL

“I’m home,” Chanyeol calls, then steps straight into solid door. So the key turns left after all. His visual memory doesn’t usually fail him, but it has been three months. After a long flight he’s probably excused.  
  
This home isn’t the permanent kind even if Chanyeol could walk to it with his eyes shut. The elevator that always chimes off-key, the hallway carpet so thick you start to sink in like it’s quicksand. The solid click of the handle turning, familiar like it’s only been days since the last time.  
  
Chanyeol steps into darkness. He drops his bag and feels for the light beside the doorframe. And it’s lucky he did; one more step and he’d have got himself another injury. Junmyeon’s shoes are just _there_ , right where he kicked them off, barely two inches from the storage shelf. Feels more and more like they’ve never been away by the moment.  
  
Knee throbbing from the knock it took to the door, Chanyeol nudges the shoes aside and then steps out of his own. There’s an uncomfortable pull in his upper arm as he stoops to slot his converse and Junmyeon’s flat heels onto shelves. His skin is on fire. After managing a fourteen hour journey and all those bags without putting pressure on the fresh ink there, he had to go and walk smack into a door. Amazing. It’s only just starting to heal.  
  
“Junmyeonnie,” Chanyeol calls, stepping up out of the genkan, “I’m home, are y-“ he stubs his toe. Somewhere between cursing and balancing against the wall to hold his foot he notices the culprit is Junmyeon’s travel bag. So yes, he is definitely in here, even if all the lights are out.  
  
If all went to plan Junmyeon arrived at Haneda three hours ago, a quick hop over from Korea. Chanyeol’s been at conventions around Europe for the past month and got more sleep on the flight from Spain than he has in weeks. He refused to show Junmyeon the tattoo he got during the three day stop in Germany until they were together and he could see it for real. It made the travel plans messy, not both starting from the same place, but there’s something to be said for anticipation.  
  
Still, it’s late and it’s dark. If it weren’t for Junmyeon’s shoes being a trip hazard in the genkan Chanyeol would have thought he’d arrived here first. Past the travel bag, Junmyeon’s jacket and laddered tights make a little trail for Chanyeol to follow to the Lawsons bag on the kitchen table.  
  
There are three bottles, the thin white plastic plastered to them with condensation. Maybe Junmyeon remembered that Chanyeol likes the apple Nacchan more than the orange, or maybe it’s just happy coincidence. He takes a long swig from the bottle before crouching to put them in the mini fridge. Left arm this time, so the fabric doesn’t pull tight over the raised lines. If Chanyeol had been here first he’d have probably summoned up the energy to go out again and buy more, get them some dinner. He’d have put the cold drinks away, at least. Junmyeon spends all day every day at work having to run on empty. He left for the airport straight from the office; he deserves the rest.  
  
Chanyeol diverts from the route to the bedroom to gather up the clothing Junmyeon shed along the way. Junmyeon’s mostly just like that, tired or not. Chanyeol picks up his mess and makes it magically disappear. When Chanyeol’s not around Junmyeon probably just starts to disappear into the mess instead.  
  
“Junmyeonnie,” Chanyeol calls from the doorway. He doesn’t want to startle him. (Well, he kinda does as repayment for the shoes, but maybe later). “Made it here in one piece.” He steps in and feels along the wall for the light above the nightstand. It’s a dimmer switch, at least, so it won’t flood the whole room. “Sorry it’s bright,” he says. The little lump on the bed grumbles in reply.  
  
Junmyeon was sleeping how he always sleeps alone, balled up tiny right in the centre of the bed. He kinda reminds Chanyeol of a little prawn all curled up like that. “Welcome home,” Junmyeon says, voice scratchy. He knuckles at the inner corner of his eye to clear the sleep from it. He didn’t even change out of the rest of his work clothes, just crawled straight on top the covers and slept.  
  
Chanyeol beams. “You too.” The only place in the room to put the jacket hooked over his arm is the desk chair. Junmyeon’s bleary eyes are on him as he wriggles out of his jeans and lays them over it too. Phone, iPod, and wallet lined up on the desk beside Junmyeon’s, their matching charms reunited. The hoodie he leaves on, even if that’s kinda gross after how long he’s been travelling. Even familiar spaces feel a little unsettling when they’re untouched and still. Chanyeol’s tired too, dazed from the change in time and hectic few weeks he’s just left behind.  
  
“What time is it?” Junmyeon tries to push up onto an elbow, all heavy with sleep. His dress shirt pulls tight across his chest and he wriggles to untwist the sleeve. The soft pillow defeats him at the whole sitting up thing. “This bed- I only meant to sleep for an hour.”  
  
Chanyeol’s flight got in around eight, then it was an hour to bus here. Took maybe half an hour from then to right now. He moves to the bed. “It’s night.” The sheets are cold under Chanyeol’s bare thighs. “If we sleep now we’ll.. well, I’ll maybe not get too jet lagged. I have no idea what time my body thinks it is right now.” His mouth tastes of apples and his heart is so warm in his chest for this grumpy little ball curled up on the bed. That’s about all he has any idea of until he’s had some proper sleep. “Myeonnie, aren’t you cold?”  
  
“Yes,” Junmyeon pouts, “It was sunny when I got here,” he says, frowning. He knocked out before he even thought of setting an alarm. “I’m sorry, you had that long journey. I was going to..”  
  
“I ate,” Chanyeol shifts closer. Junmyeon rubs his palm over his face again, trying to wake himself up enough to focus. “I got a few hours on the way, I’m good. I even got to watch Zootopia on the second flight.”  
  
Junmyeon laughs into his hand, and that warmth spills down into Chanyeol’s belly. “Only the once?”  
  
“There was a Japanese dub,” Chanyeol replies like it’s an answer. Junmyeon’s still smiling, but it’s not in his eyes now. “It doesn’t matter. Promise.” Chanyeol’s not a good liar, so all Junmyeon can do is trust that. Chanyeol nudges him gently. “Get changed and we can sleep properly. And then it’ll be morning.”  
  
“And then what?”  
  
“And then we go and buy some food. And I make us breakfast, you complain while I get our things organised..” That’s the usual routine. “Maybe you’ll get a kiss if you’re lucky.”  
  
That seems to sell it. Junmyeon pushes up on his elbow again, looks around, and flops back down. “Can’t change. My bag is.. somewhere that’s not here.”  
  
A great setback. It’s not like Chanyeol’s in and comfy yet. He’s tired, yeah, but if Junmyeon’s still in his work clothes then he’s still wearing that too-tight sports bra. Chanyeol would rather have a safe, comfortable, lazy Junmyeon than an apathetically unhealthy one. He lets out a big, long-suffering sigh. “I’m sure I can find it.” He turns to swing his legs back over the side of the bed and Junmyeon catches his arm.  
  
“Chanyeollie, it is apple you like, right?” he blinks up at him, still frowning.  
  
Chanyeol clambers back in and swamps Junmyeon in love.  
  
  
  
▲  
  
  
  
These rental apartments are nothing fancy. They’re advertised for anything from a few days for business or a few months for students. Quick reliable accommodation for whenever the two of them get the time. Off radar, Junmyeon claims, like no one back home is likely to question all of this if they book through sites with _gaijin_ in the name. It’s fine by Chanyeol; they rent on the same block every time and he’s comfier in a homely place. It’s near Ikebukuro and Junmyeon is here, so what more does he need?  
  
“You always unpack for short stays and I never get why,” Junmyeon sighs, chin propped up on his hands. Watching Chanyeol is tiring. It must just be from the change in time zones that he woke up at 6 and has been darting around the place since. “It’s only a week. You’ll just have to put it all back in a few days.”  
  
“One whole entire week,” Chanyeol says cheerfully and dips down to press a smooch to Junmyeon’s forehead. Junmyeon grumbles, finger combing his bangs back in place.  
  
The room layouts mirror each other on opposite sides of the building, but they always seem to get these ones. It feels like their own space, but they’re not on the same floor as last time. Same side, same view, though this time they can’t see over the top of the single tree outside.  
  
Chanyeol hauls something large and round and..green out of his bag onto the desk. Junmyeon squints. “What is that?”  
  
“Housewarming gift.”  
  
It’s a nightlight. A cat that doesn’t look too dissimilar to a jellybean, with big round eyes and a sweet smile and small, soft bumps for ears. Cute.  
  
“From you to me?”  
  
Chanyeol’s cheek dimples. “From Korea-us to Japan-us. We picked it out together a while back,” he smooths a palm over it, like he’s petting it’s round body, “It had a detour around the conventions with me. Mascot kinda thing. I mean, that and it’s kinda comforting. It looks friendly, right? And the light from it isn’t too strong, so it’s not like it keeps you awake, and the battery..” He looks up from his rambling to see Junmyeon’s face has fallen. “Junmyeonnie, stop frowning.”  
  
At being caught, Junmyeon switches the frown for a pout. However hard he’s trying to recollect when on earth they adopted a cat-bean together nothing’s coming to mind.  
  
“Don’t worry about it,” Chanyeol insists, “I know you don’t remember that kind of stuff.”  
  
Hmm. “I try.” Really, Junmyeon does. It just gradually slips away, unnecessary information at the bottom of the priority pile. “It seems to come more naturally to you.”  
  
“Storage space,” Chanyeol says knowledgeably, “Your capacity for romance is just way smaller than mine. Like, mine for work is so small that’s why I dropped out to do art..”  
  
Sometimes Junmyeon has to doubt whether Chanyeol, one of the greatest romantics he’s ever known, is really as ok with how clumsily Junmyeon handles it as he says. Two hours, two slow, sloppy handjobs and a nap later, he’s forgotten about it.  
  
  
“If it was our home all the time, what colour would you paint this place?” Junmyeon’s voice is muffled and hot against Chanyeol’s neck. It’s apparently ticklish; his feet kick a little, so Junmyeon shifts and nestles his chin on Chanyeol’s shoulder.  
  
“I’d keep it the same, I guess. Apart from the bedroom. Like, dark purple or green with some silver accents. That’d look cool.” Basically what his studio looks like. “What about you?”  
  
“Mm. This colour,” Junmyeon prods the pale pink section of a tattoo in his line of vision, grinning at how Chanyeol startles. It reminds him that somewhere there’s a sensitive one. “Where’s the new tattoo? I can’t have touched it by accident yet or you’d have been yelling.”  
  
Oh, right. Chanyeol had been all smug about keeping it a secret, then completely forgot about it once he had Junmyeon to focus on. He squirms onto his side and feels along his upper arm until he reaches the edge of the tender spot, then Junmyeon leans in to see where he’s pointing to. “It’s..kinda crusty right now, it doesn’t look so nice,” he says, “But it will.”  
  
“Idiot,” Junmyeon sighs, and Chanyeol grins at how long he lingers before settling back down. It’s high up enough on his arm that no one has to see the obscene lines unless he wants them to. “How was it, anyway? All your running around Europe. You never said much about what you were doing when you called.”  
  
Chanyeol shrugs. “It was fun. Not much to talk about though. I always remember my English still isn’t that good when I’m the only guest artist from around here. Got this from someone I’ve liked a long time, though,” he pats his arm just below the ink, “And I got to do like, three anime tattoos, so.”  
  
“So,” Junmyeon echoes. He sounds sleepy again.  
  
“Maybe we should just stay in here all day,” Chanyeol suggests. Junmyeon’s shaking his head, but he still happily curls back onto Chanyeol’s chest when his favourite spot is offered up. He’s warm and solid and soft, and it always takes a while of being removed from work and home for Junmyeon to let himself guiltlessly enjoy it.  
  
“I always need a day to relax, don’t I,” he sighs. It’s a waste of the little time they get.  
  
Chanyeol hums, sounding as dozy as Junmyeon. “Yeah, but I haven’t seen you in weeks. We haven’t had a lazy day together since, like, March. ‘n I love you,” he’s always catching Junmyeon off guard, how he just says that, “And I like seeing that frown disappearing. And we have a whole week, and what’s the point in even coming here if it’s not about you getting relaxed and happy? Do you want me to keep going?” he smiles lazily, “‘cause I’m really sleepy.”  
  
Junmyeon just shakes his head, a little stuck for a response. There Chanyeol goes again, just _saying_ those things. Junmyeon feels them, sure, but they don’t translate well from his brain to his mouth.  
  
“If we sleep more it’ll be bad for your jet lag,” he says instead, but undeniably he would like to stay here, tucked in under Chanyeol’s chin.  
  
For a week this is their home. Sometimes they make it over here three consecutive months and it starts to feels like it really is, like they’re fancy enough to have two places and just go back and forth as they please. Chanyeol’s not the lying type, but he jokes about pretending he’s successful enough to have a studio here. It’d be nice if they could do that.  
  
Chanyeol’s lips brush the shell of Junmyeon’s ear. “Keep me awake then,” he mumbles into his hair.  
  
It takes a long, drifty five seconds for Junmyeon to weigh up how tired he feels, how gross it is in here already from them not cleaning up the first time, how long it’s been since they’ve been together. Chanyeol makes it easy for Junmyeon to push him down, hook a thigh across his stomach, kiss him down into the pillows.  
  
Within two minutes they’re both asleep again.  
  
  
  
▲  
  
  
  
The whole building is rentals, so they never have permanent neighbours. In some ways it does feel like they live here, though, in the familiarity of the areas they frequent. The conbini workers on late shifts haven’t changed in months. Sometimes Junmyeon can get a smile out of the young girl when he uses his mimes to compensate what he lacks in vocabulary.  
  
  
“Ever wonder if people think we’re famous?” Chanyeol’s voice is low and muffled by the mask over his mouth and nose. “Models, maybe. You’re the model. I’m the stylist.”  
  
Junmyeon shrugs. No one has the time or lack of manners to stop and stare, but sometimes it’s hard to ignore the feeling of eyes on their backs. “I think you scare people and I don’t look Japanese,” he says. Chanyeol tends to get that wherever he goes. At home they can hold hands in public and only attract attention because tall inked men with cotton candy for hair, they’re hard not to notice. If they held hands here it’d give everyone something to stare at. “Though I wonder if people who live around here maybe recognise us, even if we don’t recognise them.”  
  
“Ah.”  
  
It’s a big place to stand out in, but maybe to residents on the same block they do. Stand out. The one with the pink sweaters and shoes that always look new out the box, and Chanyeol at his side all in black, like a rain cloud stalking along beside him. His mask is black, too. Every finger, the arc of skin above his neckline, and most of Chanyeol’s throat is black with ink.  
  
They’ve both always liked Japan. It made this an easy decision, and Junmyeon’s excuse of a boyfriend ‘involved in scenes’ smoothes over explaining the constant trips. Shin-Okubo is the new Harajuku, loud and bright and where everyone wants to be. At night the Yamanote line fills with Koreans, the ones who are here for the sake of their Instagrams and make Junmyeon feel incredibly old. Chanyeol eyes their small, fashionably placed linework tattoos and digs his knee into Junmyeon’s thigh. (one nudge for bad, two for good. A jab with his finger for _hey, I think I did that one_ ).  
  
  
“I don’t want to go back so soon.” Junmyeon kicks the toe of his oversized white sneaker into the dirt. Chanyeol’s drinking a juice box he got from a vending machine at the park entrance. He slurps loudly in agreement. “But I’m glad we came, even if it was a short trip.”  
  
Chanyeol gulps, then pinches the straw out of his mouth. “Don’t have to think about it yet.”  
  
“You know, essentially,” Junmyeon hauls himself up onto the same level of the climbing frame Chanyeol’s perched on, huffing from the exertion, “I come over here just for people to look at me? And see me presenting a certain way. We come to somewhere so busy then spend half our time away from it all.”  
  
Today’s adventure took them as far as the first Loft building they could find to check out the event space. It was crowded and all Chanyeol wanted was some stickers for his studio, but it wasn’t really worth the hassle of how a short, ageing member of security unsubtly watched his every move. From there they just wandered in the direction of home and ended up here. A sand park opposite a block of stone grey apartments, bed sheets drying from the balconies. It’s quiet, at least.  
  
“I like just being here,” Chanyeol shrugs. He shakes the carton to check if there’s much left in it, focusing there as he adds: “My Junmyeonnie is here, too, so.”  
  
Junmyeon splutters like sand just blew into his mouth. “Maybe it’s a good thing we can’t live together if it makes you say things like that.”  
  
“It’s not a good thing.” Chanyeol chews on the straw. Junmyeon kicks his feet back and forth, looking past Chanyeol to the sheets hanging over the balconies. Domesticity can suit them, in small doses.  
  
Living together is a fun idea, somewhere in the same realm as Junmyeon being he/him/his, no-more-deadname Junmyeon to everyone in his life. Not a million miles away. Maybe just 50 miles, and 45 of them are an assault course.  
  
It’s just..it’s tricky, their situation at home. Junmyeon’s a well liked, well respected manager. Younger girls in the office think ~~s~~ he’s amazing for the short hair, short nails, and incredibly short fuse with men in the department. (Sometimes Junmyeon hopes someone will at least spread the rumour that ~~s~~ he’s a lesbian. But there are none of those in this company. Or anywhere but bars). People think a lot less of the boyfriend, however little they see of him. His immediate family know Chanyeol calls him Junmyeon, his boyfriend, and they know Chanyeol’s family do the same. It doesn’t work to Chanyeol’s advantage in the whole boyfriend approval thing.  
  
It’s for the best for both of their careers that they stick to their own places. That’s the easiest way to look at it.  
  
“I could look down and out,” Chanyeol suggests and musses his hair until it looks like he’s been dragged through the hedge lining their building’s entrance. The pink is fading into lilacs and baby blues from previous colours he hasn’t treated out of the strands. “Then you can rent a room out to me for a super low rate and tell people how charitable you are.”  
  
Junmyeon looks Chanyeol up and down. “You look expensive,” he says warily, because Chanyeol’s just in a mid-range brand tracksuit and might take that as more a compliment than a criticism of what people think of that many tattoos. His gaze drifts to the thin line of script at Chanyeol’s temple, curved just below his hairline. It’s only visible when his hair is pushed back. There’s still a very dumb, teenage part of Junmyeon that buys into this big soft idiot’s pretence of being dangerous. “Or like a criminal.“  
  
“Then tell them I broke in and won’t leave.”  
  
Chanyeol drops the empty juice box into the trash on the way out. Five minutes down dusty quiet streets and the next shopping district is in view, bordering on a different prefecture. Here it’s just big old trees and their dappled shadows.  
  
By noon Chanyeol is starting to wilt, still on European time. He grumbles about how it must be like, 4am to him, and Junmyeon should buy him food. That doesn’t make sense, but Chanyeol calls him hyung, _nii-san_ , and Junmyeon glows even peachier pink than usual. He treats Chanyeol to noodles at a standing bar if only to stuff something in his mouth and make him stop wheedling.  
  
  
Their walk back to the apartment is slow. After eating they must have just turned the wrong way out of the door, ending up wandering, lost. Turns out they made it as far as Ebisu, and that much distance covered by accident makes taking the subway seem like a waste of money. They found a small supermarket in the side of a building and have a bag of items each, something for them to both hold in absence of each other’s hands.  
  
“I miss tattooing already,” Chanyeol says. The sun seems to set rapid and early compared to Europe; they won’t be back before dark. “That’ll be the good thing about going back, I guess.”  
  
Now and then the bags between them knock together, throwing Junmyeon a little off step. He’s carrying the heavy one with the cans because he’s stronger, but the displacement of weight when that happens makes Chanyeol frown down at him. “I don’t _miss_ work. But too many days doing nothing makes me feel like a waste of space, so I suppose I’ll be wanting to get back to it soon.”  
  
“Work with me. It’d help me out having someone on the counter to do all the polite organising stuff.”  
  
Junmyeon smiles at the idea but shrugs. “That’s what your apprentice is for, no?”  
  
Their steps fall out of pace. “Zitao _loses_ me business. Junmyeonnie, you’ve met them,” Chanyeol says, exasperated, “Polite. Organised. Two things Zitao is not. I just need them to fuck up _one_ time and it won’t be unfair dismissal.”  
  
Four months Chanyeol’s been waiting, complaining. Junmyeon twists the bag handles between his fingers. “I think you wouldn’t be letting someone work illegally unless you really liked them.”  
  
Chanyeol pulled his mask back up to cover his mouth and nose once they left the bar, and he makes a muffled, annoyed sound behind it. “I think you’re reading too much into me doing a favour for Sehunnie. Who is _your_ friend.”  
  
“I think,” Junmyeon swings the bag into Chanyeol’s knee, “You have a soft heart and an even softer spot for lost queers. Zitao’s good for your style of business and better at promoting it than you’ll ever be,” he says pointedly, because they’re not speaking the native language here but Chanyeol still glanced around to see how alone they are. “That’s more sensible marketing than having me behind the counter.”  
  
“I’d _prefer_ you, is all I’m saying,” Chanyeol grumbles. But Junmyeon has the evidence to back those facts up, so he admits defeat by falling silent for the next five minutes.  
  
They’re one block away from home when Chanyeol pauses outside Lawsons. He crouches down in front of the flower box wedged beside the bike rack. Junmyeon shuffles up behind him, peering over his shoulder.  
  
“I like these,” Chanyeol raises his voice enough for Junmyeon to hear, “Though if I had one outside the studio I’d keep the box cleaner. But these are cute, I like them.”  
  
Junmyeon hums. And waits, swinging the weight of the bag between his knees while Chanyeol studies plants in the pool of light from the store window.  
  
Chanyeol is here, too, so Junmyeon just likes being here, too.  
  
  
  
▲  
  
  
  
“Three days,” Junmyeon muses as he lifts the blinds. The net curtain filters the sun enough that he can squint through them at the street below. “Three days already.”  
  
Chanyeol’s munching on leftover pineapple Junmyeon had pushed to the back of the fridge. His legs are so long that he can perch on the edge of the cutaway wall dividing off the kitchen area, feet flat to the floor. “Not really,” he says, “It’s the start of the third day. It hasn’t been three whole days.”  
  
On this floor, lower than the treetop, Junmyeon can see that it’s growing out of a small yard. Dry dirt and a small shaded bench. No one in central Tokyo is looking for a quiet place to sit at this time of morning. “It’s only been two days and nine hours and my boyfriend is already being insufferable,” Junmyeon concedes.  
  
“You know, you only call me that when you’re annoyed,” Chanyeol points at Junmyeon with the little black stick he’s been chasing pineapple chunks around the container with, “Like we’re teenagers.” He licks juice off the back of his hand and Junmyeon’s gaze lingers until he’s done. “Partner makes us sound like grown ups.”  
  
“We are. Chanyeol, we’re adults.”  
  
“I was psychoanalysing you, don’t deflect,” Chanyeol complains, frowning. He finishes the pineapple and ducks away into the kitchen to dispose of the container. Shibuya was the first place they headed to after getting the food sorted out, in a beeline for the Disney store. There’s just something about the dim-lit spiral staircase inside that ruins self control. They’re adults with an irresponsible amount of plushies sharing the bed.  
  
Anyway. Chanyeol’s fingers are wet from rinsing off the sticky juice and leave prints on his pale shirt as he tugs up a sleeve. “Do I look like an adult?”  
  
“You look like a moron.” Junmyeon couldn’t place exactly which part of Chanyeol’s quarter sleeve is the worst. Crowded pastel childhood nostalgia is probably only ever relevant to the person it’s inked on. “It’s like the rest of you aged but your left arm got stuck in 2010.”  
  
“You’re deflecting again,” Chanyeol raises his voice after Junmyeon as he turns and leaves for the bedroom.  
  
  
Seeing as they’re adults and all, they’re entitled to ditch their plans. It’s not like they aren’t here frequently enough to have visited most places they want to see, and it’s not like they have as much opportunity to see each other when they’re both working.  
  
The plan was only a journey into Ikebukuro for arcades and crepes and maybe a movie, but today Junmyeon’s clothing seemed to have the opposite effect on his mood. He’s tiny and his binder is tiny and Chanyeol worries about his ribs and lungs. He knows Junmyeon’s safe and sensible, but it can’t be easy having to adjust to this again and again with weeks between. He doesn’t blame Junmyeon for getting snuffly and grumpy and wriggling back out.  
  
So they agreed they could still make an afternoon of their plans at least, not waste the whole day, but Chanyeol’s still not fully back in the right time zone. Jet lag and Junmyeon being the kind of grumpy that only a ride on his goodest, bestest boy can fix is why Junmyeon finds Chanyeol face down in the pillows beside the plushies he’d rescued from the floor, still in his wet towel.  
  
Junmyeon kneels on the bed and crawls across to him, careful not to jog the mattress too much. Well, the point of these trips is just to spend some time together, boyfriends being boyfriends, so it doesn’t really matter how that time is spent. Chanyeol likes Japan and he likes seeing Junmyeon happy. He says it far too often for Junmyeon to worry that this is all kind of ridiculous.  
  
It is, really. The ideal world where Junmyeon can just be himself is here, not at home. Some circumstances call for ridiculous measures.  
  
“You’re such a mess,” Junmyeon thinks out loud as he takes in the view of Chanyeol’s bare body. He drops the towel from his damp hair and leans over, gently touching a fingertip to Chanyeol’s back. Chanyeol had approximately a fuckton of ink when they started dating, but somehow he’s continued to find room for more and more. He follows the ink at his nape downwards, over the sharp slice of his shoulder blade and around to the lines running vertical over his ribs. Junmyeon’s entirely lost track of them over all this time. The little line drawing with sparse splotches of colour hiding under Chanyeol’s ribcage has always been his favourite.  
  
Sometimes he complains about it - ruins the romance when he’s trying to settle on Chanyeol’s chest eye to eye with that ugly tiger and it’s dumb open mouth. It looks about as scary as Chanyeol does, even when he’s trying. Wherever he kisses Chanyeol he’s putting his mouth on something stupid that another person put there, and Junmyeon loves complaining about that. But he’s not a romantic, Chanyeol always reminds him. Two of them are _for_ him, but unless Junmyeon figures it out himself it’s his punishment to never know.  
  
  
“You can’t just use me like that and then leave me to fend for myself,” is the first thing Chanyeol says when he wakes up. He’s still tangled in the towel, hair fluffy from drying naturally. “I’m dehydrated. Starving. Myeonnie,” he whines, wriggling and nosing in at his waist.  
  
“Poor pup.” Junmyeon ruffles his hair. Strands fall into Chanyeol’s eyes and he scrunches his nose. “Lying there letting someone else do all the work is so exhausting, hmm?”  
  
Chanyeol huffs. “Like you give me any choice,” he pouts, and Junmyeon welcomes Chanyeol squirming his head and shoulders into his lap, smiling and setting to work smoothing out the sections of hair he just mussed up.  
  
Junmyeon’s, what, about 5’6”? Chanyeol’s hands practically fit in a loop around his tiny waist. He’s never disobeyed an order in his life, and Junmyeon’s never given him incentive to try.  
  
“Maybe tomorrow we’ll get out and get something done,” Junmyeon says. He’s moved to rubbing and tugging gently at Chanyeol’s ear now, watching it colour, feeling Chanyeol’s face getting warmer where it’s pressed into his thigh. Of course he missed him, but Junmyeon’s maybe a little too well trained in downplaying his feelings. Sometimes he just has to be present in them to really acknowledge them.  
  
“Maybe,” Chanyeol sounds drifty. “Or we could just do this. Every day until we leave. That’s fine.”  
  
“I think so, too.”  
  
  
  
▲  
  
  
  
The laundry room is in the basement. It’s humid and windowless and has some negative kind of magic to it that gives a feeling of permanent nighttime outside. Normally for a weeks stay they avoid it entirely, but needs must.  
  
  
“And then you put this in the tray- the second one, without the mark on it, the mark is for softener.”  
  
Chanyeol’s explaining the process loud enough to be heard over the machines, holding up the detergent cap so Junmyeon can observe the mysterious object. Junmyeon can’t help but wonder how a machine so grimy can actually make things put inside it cleaner. Back home Junmyeon just sends it all off, hangs it back up. He’s not endeared to much he wears.  
  
This venture is Junmyeon’s fault, technically, but really it was just an accident. An hour before his phone alarm Chanyeol was shaken awake to a tearful Junmyeon and sheets wet with blood. Junmyeon, stubborn and disorganised and too sleepily distressed about the whole thing to protest when Chanyeol steered him to the bathroom with promises of sorting it all out. Dashing out to locate detergent, pads and painkillers before he was even awake enough to realise he’d taken his phone with the charger still attached was a pretty unpleasant start to the day, but Chanyeol’s nothing if not up for a challenge.  
  
Anyway, clearing up after Junmyeon is basically second nature by now. Junmyeon can just thank him later, when his jaw isn’t set so tight.  
  
The view through the door fills with water and bubbles. Chanyeol gives the top a little pat, then leans back against the machine not in use beside theirs. “So have I explained the wonders of laundry well enough that you’ll know what to do next time?”  
  
Junmyeon’s arms are crossed tight around himself. His elbows stick out sharp, keeping distance between them. “I have you,” he says, and there’s no particular reason why there’s a lump in his throat.  
  
At least it explains why Junmyeon worked his way through their bag of snacks by himself last night. His tracker app claimed six more days, but as Chanyeol pointed out, he’s constantly stressed. Messes with the cycle in ways Chanyeol probably explained, because of fucking course he’s researched it, but Junmyeon wilfully ignored him. Unfortunately, as he found out yet again this morning, that doesn’t mean it isn’t happening.  
  
  
“I want to tell everyone.”  
  
Chanyeol blinks at Junmyeon over the top of his phone. Then he connects the words, and ah, this again. “No, you..“ Chanyeol starts to say, laden with patience. But of course he does. Obviously he does. Junmyeon’s hand is so tiny under his own and seems to just shrink away more as he squeezes. “..you do, but you know you don’t want the fallout. You don’t need that. And that’s ok, there’s nothing wrong with protecting yourself.”  
  
“I know.” Junmyeon tugs his hand back into his own space, then looks up at Chanyeol, the flash of anger wilting. Sometimes this passes easily. Some months they aren’t even together when it arrives. Junmyeon just gives in and complains along with the girls at work about cramps and comfort eating and thinks maybe everything he feels about himself is a lie. “I’ve had fifteen years of this,” he says, “I know I complain every time like it’s never happened before, but it never stops feeling bad.”  
  
“Junmyeonnie,” Chanyeol sucks at his lower lip.  
  
“I see kids ten years younger than me already..they already,” Junmyeon presses a hand to his chest, fingers to his sternum where it’s hard and flat. He felt too queasy to bind so layered a tight shirt of his own under a tent sized sweater of Chanyeol’s. “You know? And I’m still- still crying over my fucking due date being off. I should have- that was why my chest hurt yesterday. I should have realised.”  
  
Chanyeol stuffs his phone back in his pocket to free up his hands. He rubs Junmyeon’s back hesitantly, waiting to see if he leans in or away.  
  
“I don’t want to feel like this here. I’m _me_ here, not..” Junmyeon doesn’t know where to put his hands and settles for gripping the hem of the sweater. It’s reflexive to want to flatten them against his tummy like it helps with the pain. He’s stubborn every single month. “I want us to be boyfriends all the time.”  
  
That kinda hurts. “We are.”  
  
“You’re so fucking tall. And your hands- when I’m next to you..” this isn’t really coming out right, that Junmyeon’s upset with himself for being the opposite of those things, not with Chanyeol for being them. All of this fucking sucks, and Junmyeon hates how big fat tears keep welling in his eyes. “I hate hearing you use my birth name. I know you- I appreciate that you’re always so careful around other people. I know you have to, but.” He bites into his lip. He still hates it.  
  
“Myeonnie,” Chanyeol says after a pause, “I know this upsets you, but we’re fixing what we can right now. You won’t feel so bad later.”  
  
“If you’re calling me hormonal.”  
  
“I’m saying it’s something that upsets you and when you’re upset isn’t the best time to make big impulse decisions.”  
  
Much as he’d like to find some reason to, Junmyeon can’t argue with that. He toes at a crack in the floor tiles. A big dent, probably where a machine got dropped when it was put in here. He’ll just keep on finding reasons to argue if they stay here. “Can we go somewhere?”  
  
Chanyeol’s brows crease. Usually out is the last place Junmyeon wants to be at times like this. Their machine is still making a lot of whooshing and gurgling sounds and hasn’t even started to spin yet, so there’s not much point just standing around. “Sure. I’ll come back down for this later. Lead the way,” he smiles, thumbing at Junmyeon’s nape before dropping his hand back into his pocket.  
  
“It took all this to actually get us up and out before noon,” Junmyeon sighs. Chanyeol laughs and holds the door for him, tugging it shut behind himself and leaving the bedsheet and Junmyeon’s underwear to the magic of laundry.  
  
  
Six years ago Chanyeol tattooed a tiny, pretty trans flag behind Oh Sehun’s ear. She was eye level with him and softly spoken, and she’d seen ( _seen_ ) him on Instagram. There’s a tight little solidarity circle amongst studios with the rainbow flag in their profile. That it’s safe here, it’s welcome, you can get whatever with no questions. Junmyeon was there to hold her hand. Junmyeon was upset then, too. Chanyeol makes conversation with everyone, and Junmyeon made the big impulse decision to blurt to Chanyeol that ~~s~~ he- he couldn’t get that tattoo, but he wanted it too. Chanyeol was the first person Junmyeon had told. Seemed safe, here, in all the skulls and ink and the weight that little emoji on his profile carried. A different world to where Junmyeon lives. Safe at last.  
  
  
“So no frustrated sex?”  
  
“Mm, no,” Junmyeon says. They’ve been on the subway for three stops already, lurking at the very end in the priority seats, shoulders pressed tight. Chanyeol probably means within the next ten minutes, or hour, or however long it takes Junmyeon to get fed up of using human noise as a distraction. “Seeing as we’re out maybe we could go to Yokohama or something. The bay.” He hums thoughtfully, staring out the opposite window. “It’s nice there in the evening.”  
  
“It’s kinda far.” Chanyeol sounds sulky, Junmyeon thinks. He makes a big deal of stuffing his hands in his hoodie pockets, sinking down and then having to fold his long legs in at an angle. “We can if you want though. It is pretty.”  
  
“You don’t have to do whatever I say, I’m not dying. I’m just sad. Hurts.” And everything that goes along with that. Junmyeon gets so little opportunity to feel comfortable in his skin, and his body goes and rebels against him halfway into that short window of time. It’s not even just the stupid skin and fat underneath it. That can be pushed and pressed and almost forgotten about. Hormones, less easy to ignore. “I don’t like being sad about this when we’re here. Here-us is supposed to be how we’d be if things were different at home.”  
  
“Sure you’re not frustrated?”  
  
This guy is not subtle when he doesn’t feel like it. Junmyeon raises his brows, and Chanyeol shrugs heavily.  
  
“It usually makes you feel better!”  
  
“I could not be less in the mood right now.”  
  
“Fine,” Chanyeol gives another big shrug, then seems to deflate inside his hoodie. “We’ll transfer for Yokohama.”  
  
“Fine,” Junmyeon pouts. Two stops further and Chanyeol’s fingers are slowly walking up Junmyeon’s thigh. “ _Chikan_ ,” Junmyeon accuses under his breath. He watches how the tendons shift in the back of Chanyeol’s large hand as he squeezes.  
  
There’s a line between spoiling his sick boyfriend and making Junmyeon feel he’s being treated _like a girl_ , and Chanyeol’s had enough years practice to stay the right side of it. Even if the alternative, sometimes, is just being annoying.  
  
  
It’s dark when they get home. Grumbling under his breath, Junmyeon makes a beeline for the bathroom while Chanyeol slots their shoes away.  
  
They find each other again in the hallway between the bedroom and the tatami room they never open the door to. Junmyeon’s hair is damp and pushed back from his patchily dried face. With only the light from the genkan Chanyeol steps slow and careful around Junmyeon’s feet. He’s wanted to touch Junmyeon more than he’s been allowed all day, and he probably still isn’t allowed now, but Junmyeon just leans back against the wall and lets Chanyeol crowd him in. He tilts his head up to watch what happens next. The tracks of water down Junmyeon’s throat catch in the light, and he probably hears the false start when Chanyeol speaks.  
  
“You’re so handsome, you know?”  
  
“I know.” Junmyeon smiles. Then sighs, pushes lightly at Chanyeol’s chest. “I know what you’re doing. You don’t have to, I was just upset this morning.”  
  
Such confident accusations. “I’m not doing anything,” Chanyeol pouts, then leans in and down. He bumps the tip of his nose against Junmyeon’s bridge, but it’s not cute enough to stop Junmyeon staring him down. Fine, fine. “I mean, ok, I am. Doing something. But because you’re handsome. Like, crazy handsome.”  
  
“And you’re full of shit,” Junmyeon mutters, but Chanyeol leans in more insistently and he still loops his arms around his shoulders. Even if Junmyeon feels sick, disgustingly emotional, and like a truck’s run him over from the naval downward, being kissed still feels nice. It’s soothing. The familiar little sounds Chanyeol makes, how when he leads it’s only small flicks of tongue and so many sweet presses of lips to lips. He’s not wrong that it makes Junmyeon feel better, frustrated or not.  
  
But soon Chanyeol kisses away from his mouth, along his jaw. Junmyeon puts pressure behind his hands on Chanyeol’s chest again. “Yeollie,” he says warningly. It’s Chanyeol’s signature move when he’s hoping Junmyeon will take over. But Junmyeon’s not- he is kind of in the mood, a tiny bit. He reflexively tilts to let Chanyeol at his neck, welcoming what he knows will feels nice. Most things Chanyeol does with his teeth and tongue feel nice. But this body he’s in, that still feels bad and sore and messy.  
  
It isn’t hard to detach Chanyeol from his neck, even if he comes away with a whine. “Down, boy,” Junmyeon says with a smile. He doesn’t really feel all that playful, but Chanyeol’s had to bear the brunt of his dysphoric foul mood all day.  
  
“Please,” Chanyeol pouts. He doesn’t sound playful either, or grouchy, or annoyed or bratty. “Just kissing, promise.”  
  
It’s not that Junmyeon would mind that, or that he thinks Chanyeol wouldn’t stand by a promise. He taps his fingers along Chanyeol’s collarbone. His mood just isn’t going to improve today. And his back hurts, and lying down without another person pressed close and making him sweaty sounds better than making out, if he’s honest.  
  
“Tomorrow,” Junmyeon bumps his hip off the wall so he can lean up and peck Chanyeol’s chin. He always feels better the second day.  
  
Chanyeol frowns. “But,”  
  
“Tomorrow, Chanyeollie.”  
  
“But daddy~” Chanyeol whines, abruptly playful, grouchy, annoyed and bratty all at once, and that’s definitely enough of this.  
  
“Puppy,” Junmyeon digs the heel of his palm into Chanyeol’s belly, the tender spot that has him reflexively shrinking in. “You’re not being a good boy right now.”  
  
“Then tell me how to be.”  
  
Saying _leave me alone to die_ probably isn’t the right answer. Junmyeon gently pats Chanyeol’s tummy in apology for digging in. It’s not that he doesn’t want to be around him. It’s not that at all, he’s a comfort. It’s Junmyeon that isn’t pleasant to be around. “I want your hoodie,” he decides.  
  
“Which? The grey one?” Chanyeol asks, straightening up. He looks downward, blinking round eyes at Junmyeon’s little fist closed around the fabric. Oh. The one he’s wearing.  
  
“I want to sleep-” Junmyeon looks away, “-in it.” It almost sounds like those things Chanyeol says. Maybe Chanyeol doesn’t notice him flushing in the low light, then he’s disappeared inside the hoodie to worm his way out anyway.  
  
“Just promise not to bleed on it,” Chanyeol says as he hands it over, and it reminds him- “Oh shit. Laundry- I’ll run down. I won’t be long, but go ahead ‘n sleep if you want.”  
  
It’s taking some navigating to find the sleeves and neck of the hoodie now the mass of fabric is over Junmyeon’s head. “Ok,” he says from inside it. When he finally pops out it’s to be met with a peck to his forehead and a _love you_ before Chanyeol scoots away.  
  
  
So, definitely no frustrated sex, despite his best efforts. Chanyeol does what he can and nudges Junmyeon to do what he actually needs, not just what he thinks he should. If there was any more he could do to make Junmyeon feel like they _are_ boyfriends all the time he would. Until then he’s successfully learned the perfect formula to remove blood stains, at least.    
  
  
  
▲  
  
  
  
“One more?”  
  
“I can do two. I can. Let me try.”  
  
“You can try as many times as you want, puppy,” Junmyeon leans all the way up Chanyeol’s long torso to mouth along his collarbone, clothed body pressing into hot bare skin. Chanyeol whimpers in relief for the affection.  
  
It’s always easy the first time. Chanyeol’s quick and simple to get off when only his dick is involved, but penetration is..not uncomfortable, because Junmyeon is so careful. But even with practice and a lot of determination it never seems to just _work_ for him. It’s easy not to come if he focuses on what feels weird and burning. Just bites into his lip and lets it fade, but that means Junmyeon stops touching him, and that part- he hates that part.  
  
“I’ll do it,” he huffs, “I’ll do it. Two more.”  
  
He’s sweating already, hair matted to his neck. Junmyeon’s fingers haven’t moved inside him since the climb down from the edge of his first orgasm. It’s partly what’s keeping him so still; it’s the exact right pressure and stretch to bring him back close again with ease, but he can be so good, see, even without anything from their box at home. If he lies with his arms folded underneath himself and Junmyeon partially straddling one of his spread thighs, like that it’s not so easy to jolt away.  
  
In Junmyeon’s (expert) opinion, edging Chanyeol for longer than ten minutes is quite a laughable concept. If he wants to try Junmyeon’s happy to provide, though. He’s so sweet when he’s overwhelmed, and he’s pretty easy to wreck. Junmyeon doesn’t tease him. “Two more for my best boy.” He presses wet kisses over Chanyeol’s ribs, as high as the dip at the centre of his chest. Avoids his nipples; that would just be cruel when he’s trying so hard. From his chest upwards the skin is coming up in blooms of scarlet under the ink. “You took such good care of me yesterday, didn’t you?”  
  
“Yeah,” Chanyeol answers in a short gasp. Junmyeon’s just rocking his wrist, just pushing a tiny bit deeper. Barely moving, really, but- yeah, he really can’t take much of this before it’s his limit.  
  
“You always do,” Junmyeon sounds so fond, but it’s hard to focus on that with his other hand stroking nice and slow, loose fisted. “That’s why you have to let me take care of you too. You always make it so easy for me~”  
  
Maybe that was teasing, just gently, but Chanyeol doesn’t have the sense to be embarrassed about any of that right now. The build is faster the second time, and he’s always been weak for praise. “Fuck, stop- stop, Myeonnie, st.. god,“ he pants, head dropping back in relief when the friction is gone.  
  
Junmyeon smiles. Chanyeol’s thigh jolts when he thumbs gently at the muscle on the inner side. He gets so tense, poor thing. “Stop telling you how good you are?”  
  
“Y- No, just the-“ He’s struggling to catch his breath. Junmyeon would kiss his flushed cheeks if he could reach. “Be nice to me,” Chanyeol scowls. Not his breath, but he’s at least got his senses back enough to remember Junmyeon’s a jerk.  
  
“I am being very nice to you, Park Chanyeol.” It’s only a playful, gentle twist of his fingers, but wow, Chanyeol really has no volume control. Two down, one to go.  
  
Playing like this is always pretty relaxing for Junmyeon. Chanyeol’s easy to satisfy and satisfying to ruin. And adorable - that’s a bonus. The problem with Chanyeol is he’s too impatient with himself to take the time he needs for this, and with Junmyeon he’s always too eager to please to be selfish. Junmyeon’s horrendously greedy in comparison, but Chanyeol always wants to give, always wants Junmyeon to take. Rewarding him for good behaviour at least makes him shut up and take it. Or try to take it, at least.  
  
Junmyeon’s fingers are thick, and even slicked dripping wet three makes Chanyeol hiss. His stomach feels like it all crunches in tight and he wonders why, why, _how_ the fuck Junmyeon enjoys this so much, how he’s so terrifyingly small but makes taking Chanyeol seem so easy. When they were new to each other he’d just assumed Junmyeon would want to fuck him, and Junmyeon kissed him silly when he confided how worried he was about making that achievable.  
  
“It’s ok, it’s ok. I’m not gonna move,” Junmyeon soothes. Puppy did so good taking him knuckle deep, so tight, so _loud_ about it. It’s too cute; Junmyeon needs to kiss him a hundred times when they’re finished. “I’ll stay just like this, ok? You can move if you want to. Only take what you can, pup.”  
  
For a long moment Chanyeol does nothing but squeeze his eyes shut. His hands aren’t trapped underneath his back anymore, one pressed up over his forehead and gripping at his hair. Junmyeon doesn’t ask him to take it away and stop ruining his view. His sweet tiny boy and his pretty pink cock, sticky soft belly. There’s even ink on the backs of his thighs. Junmyeon’s not sure when they manoeuvred so Chanyeol is gripping onto one, holding himself spread. He’s just always so eager to be _good_. Junmyeon doesn’t mean to laugh.  
  
“You’re al-“ Chanyeol swallows hard to get his dry mouth working again, “-always so mean-“  
  
“No,” Junmyeon shushes. Not this time. “It’s because you’re so cute. And pretty. So tiny and good for me-“  
   
Chanyeol moves, then. His hips kick up in a small, stuttered movement. Up into Junmyeon’s still, tight fist. They went to Ueno today, and he can feel how far they walked in his shins and inner thighs. He can’t support himself, has to let his weight drop back down. Junmyeon’s fingers slide deeper, and Chanyeol fists both hands into his hair, like pulling on it is somehow going to derail how strung out and sensitive he is.  
  
And Junmyeon _is_ mean, because Chanyeol’s trying so so hard and the sudden lack of friction around his dick, followed by a squeeze twice as hard and twice as wet has him choking on his own breath.  
  
“Fuck-“ his voice comes out small and broken, and if there’s supposed to be a _you_ on the end of that it’s totally lost as Junmyeon strokes him slick and tight and so painfully slow. “Fuckfuck fuck _fuck_ ,” Chanyeol’s toes curl, his heels digging into the sheets as he squirms and sobs. However he moves it’s overwhelming, not yet not yet not-  
  
“You wanted to last three times,” is how Junmyeon justifies suddenly easing his fingers out. He wipes his hand on the sheet and rubs his palm soothingly over Chanyeol’s hip. Empty is worse than too full, if his cursing and babbling is anything to go by. “Sorry, little one,” Junmyeon can stretch up to kiss his face now. It’s hot and damp. “Doing what you asked. Letting you show me how good you are.”  
  
Even wound so tight he’s proving it, dropping his hands back to his sides and melting out to make it easy for Junmyeon to fit in alongside him. Junmyeon twists his hand and starts jerking him fast, to put him out of his suffering and give him his reward. His thumb knuckle presses into Chanyeol’s stomach and the sleeve of his hoodie - Chanyeol’s hoodie - drags over bare, sensitive skin. This close Junmyeon can see his eyelashes are damp and clumped together. “Puppy,” he says softly, and Chanyeol shakes his head. It’s fine- more than fine, it’s-  
  
Junmyeon presses the heel of his palm into the pit of Chanyeol’s throat, and for a second he’s so overwhelmed he’s not even sure coming is what will end it. Dying, maybe. Junmyeon’s small hand closes under Chanyeol’s jaw, forcing his head to stay up. Whimpering and whining straight into Junmyeon’s mouth as he licks in between praises, nips gently at Chanyeol’s lower lip, laughs soft and breathy against his damp skin. Keep still, paws down, good boy.  
  
It’s a visible strain for Chanyeol not to buck up, his muscles shifting and holding taut under his inked skin. There’s a sheen of sweat over his chest and slippery under Junmyeon’s hand. “Just a little more. I know you can, just a little..“ He’s good as sobbing again, gripping the sheets tight and his feet scrabbling against them as he tries to squirm away the urge to just _take_. Junmyeon’s so proud of him. He squeezes lightly with his thumb and middle finger, nothing hard enough to restrict the precious little breathing Chanyeol’s managing right now. Just possessive pressure as he nuzzles in close against Chanyeol’s jaw. “You’re so good. So good, so so good, puppy,” he murmurs to him, and doesn’t stop until Chanyeol’s gone limp against his side.  
  
It takes a few seconds for Chanyeol to come back into focus. “Happy pup?” Junmyeon coos, and Chanyeol’s groan reassures him that he’s just fine. Wrecked and messy and immediately shy, but otherwise fine. “Three whole times, very impressive.”  
  
“Go away.” The heat goes deep down under Chanyeol’s skin. He whines helplessly, embarrassed but without the strength or coordination to even cover his flushed face.  
  
Junmyeon brushes damp hair away from Chanyeol’s eyes and can’t help grinning at how he leans into it despite his pouting. “Mm, before I go away, do you need anything?”  
  
Chanyeol turns his head, tries to nip at Junmyeon’s wrist. “I wanna suck you off,” he says. He still sounds dazed, and his tongue is wet and maybe that wasn’t meant to be a bite at all. Junmyeon would like that. Now his full attention isn’t occupied he’s very aware how much he’d like Chanyeol’s long puppy tongue. Unfortunately that’s not a viable option right now. And Chanyeol knows that, but he still wriggles grumpily when Junmyeon shakes his head.  
  
“Anything else?”  
  
Chanyeol lets out a long, displeased sigh before deciding: “Oreos.”  
  
  
It’s gone 1am by the time Chanyeol’s been fed, hydrated and managed to drag himself to the bathroom. Junmyeon guiltily (sort of; it’s Chanyeol’s mess) swaps the hoodie for a double layer of shirts, bundling it up and stuffing it into Chanyeol’s travel bag. At least he didn’t bleed on it.  
  
“Chanyeollie pillow,” Junmyeon opens his arms to Chanyeol when he finally skulks back to their room. Junmyeon’s been propped up against the pillows waiting, willing himself not to doze. “Come on. Sit. Pillow,” he says again, patting his chest to encourage Chanyeol over.  
  
“Stop it.”  
  
“Stop what?” Junmyeon asks in the same tone. Sulking doesn’t stop Chanyeol from settling his head on Junmyeon’s soft unbound chest, throwing a heavy arm around Junmyeon’s waist.  
  
“Stop fussing,” Chanyeol means to grumble, but it’s more of a whine. Still. He stays whiny until he’s slept it off, after something like that. He likes being fussed over, honestly, and all he wants right now is to be cuddled and not have to admit how much he needs it. “You’re aftercare-ing me. Who needs aftercare just for that.”  
  
“You. And you’re getting it if you asked or not.” Junmyeon presses a kiss to Chanyeol’s forehead. This time he sounds sleepy when he grumbles. Junmyeon nuzzles into his soft hair, nosing at the tip of an ear. “You did so good for me.” Either Chanyeol’s still set on sulking or he’s already dozed, but there’s no reply.  
  
Their little home is up so far away from the park, but after the last train the city is quiet enough to hear the echoing clatter of skateboards down there. All the way up here they’re just a square of light, until Junmyeon carefully stretches an arm over Chanyeol to dim it out.  
  
It’s hard getting to sleep on the last night of a trip, but tiring Chanyeol out is pretty tiring in itself. It’s not like leaving changes that they can have moments like this, but they always feel a little different here. Just a little better, knowing the next day won’t be back to a name Junmyeon doesn’t want to be called and a less settling context their relationship is viewed in. Unless it’s the last night. But Chanyeol went out of his way to provide distractions, so.  
  
Junmyeon settles under Chanyeol’s weight and the comforting pressure of the loop of his arms, heavy with sleep. Just them and cat-bean and it’s soft green glow.  
  
  
  
▲  
  
  
  
Junmyeon didn’t know anything about tattoos when they met. He didn’t realise how much actual _work_ it involves, the travelling, the hours. The relentless hours, even with Chanyeol at a point in his career where he can be more selective now. He loves his work so much it’s rare for him to even refer to it as such. He’s so talented, and he knows it, and it’s clear from his turnout, but Junmyeon’s still always proud.  
  
“Sure you don’t mind me keeping the nightlight?”  
  
“Ah,” Chanyeol replies, pressing his wrist firmly across Junmyeon’s inner elbow. Junmyeon’s given him his forearm to doodle on to pass the time, but he’s not great at keeping still. Chanyeol’s just using an ink pen from the little pouch of art things he always carries around, Junmyeon really doesn’t understand how he can make it work like this. It’s such a childish thing to do, letting Chanyeol _draw_ on him, but it doesn’t even look all that fake. They spent five minutes dividing the plushies between their cases, like responsible adults.  
  
It’s an hour until they’re catching the bus to the airport. They’re all packed up and the apartment is mostly shut down. Rooms emptied, double-checked and closed. Keys and the envelope to return them in left out on the shoe stand, to make extra sure they’re not forgotten.  
  
This part is the hardest, Junmyeon finds. Once they’re on the bus they can only make the kind of conversation you make in crowded spaces. There’s a small window of time where it feels so bad, acknowledging the shift in circumstances, but by the time the flight is landing it’s gone. They part ways outside the airport and life is just back to usual. They’ll see each other tomorrow after work, and Junmyeon will either curl up small and tight in Chanyeol’s lap or make good on his offer for ways Junmyeon best works through frustration. Depends how the day goes.  
  
“Have you decided when you’re going to let me do this for real yet?” Chanyeol asks, then blows on the ink.  
  
Junmyeon rolls his eyes. “There’s still nothing I feel strongly enough about to have visible on me forever.”  
  
“You’re weird.”  
  
“You’re overly sentimental.”  
  
“Do you know how many people would date me just for the benefits?” Chanyeol’s holding Junmyeon’s arm up close to his mouth. He blows cool air on the ink again, then prods to see if it’s dry. “And you’re not even making any use of it. Tragic.”  
  
“I get plenty of use out of you,” Junmyeon says. He rolls his sleeve back down over the script and flowers while Chanyeol splutters indignantly. “And get plenty of benefits,” he adds. Chanyeol seems happier about that, hooking an arm around Junmyeon and pulling him in for a kiss.  
  
“Don’t like this part,” Junmyeon sighs, leaning their foreheads together. “Can’t we just elope and stay here?”  
  
“We can. I didn’t book return flights.” Chanyeol scrunches his eyes shut when Junmyeon gently bumps their noses. Oh. He blinks at him, surprised to see that Junmyeon just looks fond. “I thought you were going to headbutt me.”  
  
“I know you’re not that stupid. I wouldn’t mind if you had been, though.” Junmyeon sighs again, slouching against Chanyeol’s shoulder. He always feels warm and solid and good. Always always, whether they’re here being boyfriends or at home being, contextually, something a little different. Chanyeol’s hand spreads flat out over his back and rubs, and for a few seconds Junmyeon just focuses on the heat and weight of it. Melting into it and away into nothing.  
  
After a moment Chanyeol tilts his head down. “Does saying you’ll still have me and we’ll still be boyfriends and I’ll still love you count for anything?”  
  
Well, in the short-term, not really. If Junmyeon’s honest, which he diplomatically tries to be. It doesn’t really change any of the reasons he wishes they could just not go back. But in the long-term, yeah. Even in the short-term where he’s grouchy and sad and ladders all of his tights within three days, he’d be lost without his Chanyeol. “It does.” Tempting as it is to bury away in Chanyeol’s shoulder, instead Junmyeon lifts his head back up. “I love you too,” he says, and leans up to peck Chanyeol’s chin.  
  
Chanyeol pulls back with a gasp, eyes wide. “You do? Really?”  
  
Oh- “Shut up, boyfriend,” Junmyeon smacks him a little too close to the healing tattoo for comfort. It’s gentle, but Chanyeol’s a big dramatic baby about these things. Junmyeon nearly ends up tipped out of his lap onto the floor, and by the time they’re done wrestling and bickering about the grievous injury to Chanyeol’s arm Junmyeon isn’t really thinking about the weight of leaving anymore. Just that he will still have Chanyeol, they'll still be boyfriends, and the sooner they're home, the sooner they can make plans to come back.

**Author's Note:**

> (nsfw link) chanyeol’s new tattoo is something along [these lines](https://www.instagram.com/p/BkRp6j2FOXh/?utm_source=ig_share_sheet&igshid=1rjqpdploh4v2) lmao  
> thank you for reading ! ☀ at [tumbl](https://taonsil.tumblr.com) ❀ [twt](https://twitter.com/taonsil) ❀ [cc](https://curiouscat.me/suyeols) if you wanna talk or see extensive meta on similar subjects


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